


I Hope You're Happy

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Alastair is a meanie, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Bullying, Charlie is a nerd and we love her, Having three doctors is a thing, Human!All the angels, Human!Noemi, Human!Zachariah, Hurt Castiel, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Just another boarding school AU, Melody is a flirt, Molly is a cutie, Multi, Rory and Amy are de-aged, Rose and Ten accidentally get married, Sam and John are bros, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Sherlock is on the drugs, Star Wars - Freeform, Zachariah is a jerk, harry likes socks, how does one tag, human!Cas, human!Gabriel, john's dad is chill, john's mom is not, some child abuse im sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-01-23 17:45:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1574225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boarding School AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Supernatural

"Cassie!"  


"Gabriel, shut up," Castiel sighed too quietly for his brother downstairs to hear, and hefted his bag to his shoulder with a bit of difficulty. It seemed heavier than it should have been, though maybe he was just thinner than he had been the previous year.  


"Castiel."  


His father's voice made him shiver involuntarily, and he hurriedly sat down to put on his shoes. He couldn't yell down to say he was coming, because his father didn't even like the sound of his voice.  


Castiel got his shoes tied and stood quickly, stumbling over his feet on his rush for the door and hitting the ground with a soft groan. He scrambled to his feet, dragging his bag up with him, but it was too late. Calm, even footsteps were making their way up the stairs.  


Maybe he could just go downstairs now and his father wouldn't get angry. Worth a try. Castiel kept his head down and walked to the stairs just in time for his father to reach the top.  


"Sorry, sir--" Castiel managed to say before receiving a slap upside the head and he fell silent, keeping his face turned towards the ground.  


"We're going to be late, and I can't be late." Zachariah Novak was the principal at Castiel's school, and a widely respected community member. He claimed to have gotten where he was because of his sometimes overwhelming perfectionism, though Gabriel had told Castiel that he'd bribed and probably blackmailed the superintendent.  


"Sorry--" Castiel tried again, but Zachariah wasn't done.  


"And whose fault will the consequences of that be?"  


"Mine," Castiel said. Wasn't everything his fault anyway? Lucifer running away, Anna marrying that one girl with the brown hair and cute smile, Gabriel getting held back in first grade? Gabriel had proudly claimed responsibility for the latter, but his father still used it as a source of guilt for Castiel.  


His father would have continued, but the car horn sounded outside for almost a minute straight. Gabriel, Castiel thought with relief, and almost smiled, but he was never one for smiling, especially since Zachariah had told him it made his face look deformed.  


Relieved that his father had drank a lot the previous night, had a bit of a hangover, and thus would focus on making as little noise as possible, Castiel followed his father down the stairs after he gave up on his interrogation.  


When they reached the car, Gabriel climbed over the driver's seat into the back to give Zachariah space. Michael, in the passenger's seat, buckled his seatbelt.  


Zachariah climbed into the front seat and started the car, leaving Cas to open his own door and heave his bag inside before climbing in himself next to Gabriel.  


"You okay?" Gabriel muttered to Castiel, and Michael looked over his shoulder casually to see Castiel's answer.  


Castiel nodded silently and pulled his seatbelt across himself. Michael looked forward again with an almost imperceptible nod. As the oldest of the Novak children, Michael had already graduated college, but taught physical education at their father's school. According to Gabriel, this was partially because he was at their father's beck and call, and partially because he loved making others suffer. Michael had overheard Gabriel telling Castiel this a few years back, which resulted in a ten minute wrestling match. Castiel refereed. Everyone lost.  


Three mostly peaceful hours later, Zachariah pulled into a shaded staff parking spot behind the office. Michael got out, taking his bag with him, along with the trash from his lunch. Gabriel picked up his bag, then Castiel's, having thrown his trash out the window long before.  


Castiel nodded a thanks to him and got out of the car, his stomach growling. Zachariah seemed to have forgotten that his youngest son was in the Honda Pilot and hadn't ordered him anything. Gabriel had slipped him his fries, but Castiel was a seventeen year old boy who had woken up too late for breakfast and needed more. Dinner was luckily in about an hour.  


"Get out of here now." Gabriel whispered with a mischievous grin to Castiel, who slipped away and into the office with a sigh of relief.  


"Hello, Noemi," Castiel politely said to the desk lady, who regarded him with slight distaste.  


"It's Miss Noemi. You want your schedule, I imagine?" She typed on her computer as she spoke in a monotone.  


"Yes." Castiel patiently stood next to the counter, alternating between watching his shoes and the door. "And one for Gabriel."  


Noemi smiled a little at Gabriel's name. Castiel briefly wondered if there was anyone who smiled when they heard his name, but then shook his head to himself. Why would they?  


The receptionist slid two pieces of paper across the counter at Castiel and proceeded to ignore him. Castiel took them and held one up for Gabriel as he bounded in.  


"Hey, Noemi!" The older Novak waved and looked over his schedule carelessly, before tossing Castiel's bag at the younger boy's feet.  


"Gabriel," Noemi said pleasantly, a completely different tone than anyone had ever directed at Castiel.  


Castiel picked up his bag while the two chatted, but Gabriel soon ended the conversation and practically dragged his brother out of the office soon after. "Let's find your room, Cassie!"  


Castiel managed to keep up with him, but as he neared his building he slowed. Gabriel noticed and fell back to join him. "What's up, buttercup?"  


Castiel lifted and dropped one shoulder noncommittally, then whispered, "What if my roommate hates me like last year?"  


Gabriel sighed. "Then you call me and I beat him up."  


"Violence isn't the answer, Gabriel." Castiel looked up with the piercing glare that, when Gabriel was honest with himself, scared him a little.  


"I'll have a stern talking-to with him, and then I'll call Lucy and he will too," Gabriel amended.  


Castiel relaxed a little at the thought of Lucifer, who firmly believed in Castiel getting equal treatment, and that was what got Castiel into the building.  


A short and uneventful elevator ride later, Castiel was approaching his room. Gabriel noticed how tense his brother was and smiled somewhat reassuringly while pulling a lollipop out of his back pocket as Castiel stepped into the already open doorway.  


There was a boy standing there, unpacking his duffel bag, but he turned when he heard Castiel. "Hi," the boy finally said, when Castiel didn't move. "You're my roommate?"  


Castiel nodded, not knowing what to say. The boy had blonde hair and beautiful green eyes.  


Castiel, do not get a crush on your roommate, he reprimanded himself.  


He sensed that Gabriel was staring at him, willing him to say something, and he realised he should introduce himself. "I'm Castiel."  


"Dean Winchester." The boy held out his hand to shake with a smile.  


His face didn't look deformed when he smiled, Castiel thought as he shook Dean's hand with the firm handshake his father always required. Maybe they could be friends.  


But Dean wasn't done. "Castiel, huh? Weird name."  


Castiel felt his face fall a little, but tried to look indifferent. He knew it was a weird name, unlike Gabriel or Michael or Anna. Lucifer's name was unusual too, but at least he was cool enough to pull it off.  


"It's a good weird," Dean added earnestly. Castiel perked up a little, not believing his ears. Was a good weird possible? "I'm gonna call you Cas, okay?"  


"Okay," Cas nodded, trying not to look as excited as he was. He'd never had a nickname before, except for Cassie, which didn't count because it was thought up by Gabriel. His shoulder was getting tired, so he crossed to the unoccupied bed and dropped his bag onto it, hearing Gabriel enter behind him.  


"I'm Gabriel! I'm Cassie's brother and if you hurt him in any way I swear you will no longer need regular intake of oxygen!" Cas wanted to smile, but didn't of course, and turned to watch them shake hands.  


"You're bold for someone so short," Dean remarked, and Cas was surprised at how forward he was.  


Gabriel smirked, looking sideways at Cas approvingly for a split second. "You're bold for someone so young."  


"I'm a junior!" Dean protested.  


Cas was the same age.  


"And I'm a senior." Gabriel licked his lollipop again. The kind older brother which had given Cas reassurance was gone, replaced by School Gabriel. "Cherry. Hmmm," he said thoughtfully.  


Cas sat down on the bed, playing with the sleeves of his hoodie and poking through his bag. "Back off, Gabriel," he ordered when he heard Gabriel muttering something to Dean. Gabriel winked at Cas.  


"You're adorable, Cassie." Gabriel ruffled his brother's hair and galloped out of the room. "Kisses, everyone!"  


"Wow." Dean sat down across from Cas, and Cas watched him curiously. Why was he so nice? "Is he always so..."  


"Enthusiastic? Belligerent? High-maintenance?" Cas suggested, opening his bag and trying to ignore the pain from his bruised side, a remnant of his father's drunken rage of the previous night. Dean didn't seem to notice, but then again, no one ever did.  


"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Nice to meet you, Cas."  


Cas couldn't believe his ears, but managed a "You too, Dean."  


"What brings you here?" Dean stretched out on his bed, and Cas looked away. It was not okay to crush on your roommate.  


Cas didn't know what to say, but finally managed, "It's a family thing." For some reason, he didn't want to tell Dean he was related to Principal Novak.  


"That so?" Dean accepted the answer and sat up. "We need music. And posters."  


"What kinds?" Cas didn't want to admit to his limited knowledge of music.  


Dean looked over at Castiel, who hurriedly turned his gaze to his bag, and then said something no one had ever even considered saying before: "What kinds do you like?"  


Maybe this would be a good year.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  


Dean heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes, pointedly looking away from his dad as he turned to go. "Whatever you say, old man."  


John snarled a little as he grabbed Dean's arm and spun him back around, but toned it down to a low growl when Sam looked over at them. "I can just take off at any time, you know that?"  


"Nah." Dean smirked carelessly. He wasn't usually disrespectful to his father, ever. Then again, it wasn't every day his dad dumped him and his kid brother at some nerd school. "We're family, pops!" He was going to regret this later, he knew.  


It was still worth it.  


"It's only for a semester, maybe less," John promised a little louder than was necessary, apparently to reassure Sam. He gripped Dean's wrist tightly and muttered, "No discipline issues, no nothing. I'm not going to drive all the way back here in the middle of a case because you beat up some kid."  


"What if the kid is a--"  


"Not even then." John thrust Dean's bag into his stomach. "What're your jobs here again?"  


Dean managed to catch the bag, getting the air knocked out of him. "No fights, passing grades, take care of Sammy," he wheezed.  


"Good boy." John smiled a forced smile and then gave his son a slightly awkward hug before going to say goodbye to Sam.  
Sam, his pride and joy, Dean thought with another sigh. Not that he blamed his father; Sammy came first. Absently, he examined the wrist that John had grabbed. Bruises would show the next day, but it wasn't like Dean was any stranger to bruises, especially ones that were his fault.  


Dean heard the purr of the Impala--a beauty, that car was--as his dad drove off, and his shoulders finally slumped a little in relief ("Shoulders back, chin up, you're a man, Dean," John had told him continually, starting at age seven when he'd been almost gutted by a werewolf). He turned halfway to wait for Sam, pulling the sleeves of his leather jacket down a little, out of habit. "Come on, Sammy!"  


"It's Sam," his younger brother grumbled, dragging his bag over to Dean. "I swear, if people around school start calling me that, I'll--"  


"Hush, Sammy." Dean grinned and picked Sam's bag up for him. "Little twelve year olds. Think they know everything."  


Sam scowled, but followed his brother towards the shade of the main office building. "I'm fourteen."  


"That's what I meant." Dean looked over his shoulder and at Sam for a moment, then snorted and swung open the door to the office. "Better hope your growth spurt comes soon, champ."  


Sam followed him inside, taking his bag back from Dean and managing to keep it off the ground. He was thin now, yes, but he knew that someday he'd be taller than Dean.  


The lean, businesslike lady at the front desk glanced up as the brothers entered with a polite smile. "Can I help you boys?"  


Dean stepped forward as Sam examined the room. Clean. Too clean. Some chairs, without pillows, hard floor, no pictures on the walls.  


"Yeah, sweetheart, our dad called earlier." Dean peered over the front of the counter to read the lady's name tag. Noemi? "We enrolled. Sam and Dean Winchester."  


Noemi nodded and began typing on her computer. Her hair was pinned back in a bun that looked painfully tight, at least to Sam. He wouldn't know--Dean had never successfully done his hair.  


A minute later, she stood and clicked over to the printer in respectable high heels. "We assign roommates completely randomly," she explained in a calm, almost monotonous voice as she pulled four papers out of the printer. "Here are your schedules and maps. Good luck."  


"Thank you, Noemi." Dean took the papers with an almost flirtatious smile, and Sam felt like throwing up.  


"Dean, don't flirt with the office lady," the younger Winchester muttered, taking his brother's wrist and pulling him back out of the office.  


"And whyever not?" Dean asked innocently, brushing past more kids on his way through the door. "Feeling jealous, now are we?"  


"No! I'm not--Dean--no--don't be stupid," Sam finally managed, bright red. Always so easy to embarrass, Dean thought affectionately as he ruffled Sam's hair with an "I won't judge, Sammy."  


The brothers walked in companionable silence, which was only interrupted by one kicking the other's shin or ruffling their hair.  


Dean insisted on accompanying Sam to his room ("I doubt you can even get that suitcase up the stairs by yourself, brother dearest." "There's an elevator, Dean!"), and spent the time on the way hoping that Sam's roommate wasn't too much of a jerk. Maybe someone his own age who didn't want to punch a hole through him?  


"After you," he said mock-graciously, and Sam stuck out his tongue and opened the door, walking inside.  


Dean followed, tossing Sam's bag onto the bed not occupied. The other bed had a blond boy typing on a laptop.  


The boy quickly stood when he saw the Winchesters. "Which one of you is my roommate?"  


"Both," Dean deadpanned, winking.  


"Me." Sam smiled, friendly as usual. "I'm Sam Winchester."  


"John Watson, hi." The boy stuck out his hand and Sam shook it. "Hope you don't mind I took this bed, it had an outlet..."  


"Oh, that's not a problem." Sam sounded sincere. Nerd, Dean thought, but John seemed nice enough.  


"I'm Dean, his older brother. I'm a junior?" Dean held out his hand too, managing a smirk at least.  


John shook his hand. Strong grip, good military handshake. For having the same name as Dean's dad, John seemed surprisingly okay.  


"Senior. Good to meet you." John nodded and grinned. "I'll take care of Sam, no worries."  


"Thanks." Dean ruffled Sam's hair on his way out. "Anyone bothers you, call me."  


"Love you too." Dean could practically hear Sam rolling his eyes.  


The walk to Dean's own room was more leisurely, meaning Dean got lost and wouldn't let himself ask some freshman shrimp where building B was. Finally, he found it tucked behind some confusingly placed trees, halfway across campus from Sam's building.  


Top floor. Dean took the stairs up and pushed open the door to the room with his name on it, next to some other kid's, which he didn't bother checking.  


It was an okay room. The window had a tree growing in front of it, but he could see the main sprawl of the campus through the branches. There were two beds, a table, a closet, a bare desk, and another door that led to a small bathroom.  


Dean chose the bed across from the window. He disliked sleeping next to windows, although he made sure to get up and place a salt line along the sill before beginning to unpack.  


He heard light footsteps behind him, and turned to see a boy standing in the doorway uncertainly with another boy, an older one, behind him.  


"Hi," Dean greeted, turning around. "You're my roommate?"  


The boy in the doorway nodded. He had the bluest eyes Dean had ever seen, and was wearing a hoodie and jeans, which hung off his lean frame a little. "I'm Castiel." His voice was quieter than what Dean was used to, but still somehow easy to hear.  


"Dean Winchester." The hunter held out his hand with a friendly smile. Castiel shook it with more strength than Dean thought the boy had. "Castiel, huh? Weird name."  


Castiel looked a little hurt, but nodded as if he was used to it.  


"It's a good weird," Dean hurriedly added, partly because the boy behind Castiel was glaring at him, and partly because there was something about Castiel that made Dean want to try and be nice. "I'm gonna call you Cas, okay?"  


"Okay." Cas nodded, setting his bag down on the bed under the window. The boy in the hall apparently took this as a cue and bounded into the room, unwrapping a lollipop.  


"I'm Gabriel! I'm Cassie's brother and if you hurt him in any way I swear you will no longer need regular intake of oxygen!" The boy finally breathed and licked his lollipop before grinning and sticking out his hand. Dean shook it, recognising a brother's overprotectiveness but not liking the handshake. Gabriel's grip was weak and gave Dean the feeling not to trust him.  


"You're bold for someone so short," Dean commented.  


Gabriel smirked. "You're bold for someone so young."  


"I'm a junior!"  


"And I'm a senior." Gabriel examined his nails and licked his lollipop again. "Cherry. Hmm." He lowered his voice and tilted his head towards Castiel. "Be nice, okay?" Dean nodded, wondering why Gabriel was so firm about it.  


Cas awkwardly sat down, tugging his sleeves down farther. "Back off, Gabriel," he muttered, but both Gabriel and Dean heard him.  


"You're adorable, Cassie." Gabriel ruffled his brother's already-messy black hair and flounced out of the room. "Kisses, everyone!"  


"Wow." Dean sat down across from Cas. "Is he always so..."  


"Enthusiastic? Belligerent? Lacking subtlety?" Cas finished for him, unzipping his duffel bag and wincing as he turned his upper body. Dean overlooked it, for the moment at least. He didn’t want to seem creepy.  


"Yeah." Dean grinned. "Nice to meet you, Cas."  


Cas looked as if that was the nicest thing he'd ever heard and relaxed a bit. "You too, Dean."  


"What brings you here?" Dean stretched out on his bed.  


Cas didn't answer for a bit, but finally gave a vague, "It's a family thing."  


"That so?" Kicking open his bag, Dean sat up and looked around the room. It was bare and too quiet. "We need music. And posters."  


"What kinds?"  


Dean looked over at his roommate, who sat silently and fumbled through his bag. "What kinds do you like?"


	2. Doctor Who

"Come on, Rose! Time for school!" The Doctor exclaimed excitedly, racing out of the TARDIS with his coat flapping behind him. Rose sighed good-naturedly and ran after him, glancing backwards to make sure the TARDIS was hidden well enough.  


She didn't understand. One moment they were on some foreign planet with big red aliens, and now they were getting jobs at a private school in America.  


As she trailed him, Rose called, "I won't have to be a dinner lady again, will I?"  


The Doctor hesitated and slowed, letting her catch up. "Of course not."  


"You're lying, aren't you?"  


"Yeah." The corner of his mouth twitched in a smile, which Rose couldn't help returning, though she tried to scowl.  


"And why are we here?"  


"I already explained this!"  


"No, you muttered a recipe for banana bread, not even loud enough for me to understand." Rose took the Doctor's hand and looked around the campus as they continued their walk to the office. "And you wouldn't answer any of my questions."  


The Doctor looked thoughtful. "Well, there's something really weird here. Six students just vanish without a trace. And no police was called, ever!"  


"And that's our problem...why?" Rose raised her eyebrows and smiled at some students passing by.  


"Come on, where's your sense of adventure?" With a smirk, the Doctor held open the door to the office for his companion. "We're gonna figure it out."  


Rose followed him up to the counter and muttered out of the corner of her mouth, "You'd better not pretend to be Hercule Poirot again."  


"My French accent is a beauty." The Doctor looked offended and turned his gaze to the desk lady. "Hello!"  


Noemi looked up at them warily. "How can I help you?"  


Rose put a restraining hand on the Doctor's arm. They didn't need him spouting off some time-traveller's spiel. "We called earlier. We're here for two of the jobs available?"  


"Oh, yes. Names?" Noemi clicked something on her computer.  


"John Smith and Rose Tyler," the Doctor provided smoothly.  


"Here we are. Physics teacher," she gestured to the Doctor, "and guidance counsellor," she moved her hand to point to Rose, whose eyes widened and she squeezed the Time Lord's arm.  


"That's us." The Doctor nodded enthusiastically.  


"Principal Novak found your resumes sufficient. He'll want to talk to you for a few minutes, though, just to make sure." Noemi pointed out the chairs next to the door. "He's in his office. I'll let him know you're here." She proceeded to get up and disappear into the back hallway.  


"Counsellor?!" Rose hissed, a wide smile on her face.  


The Doctor grinned. "Thought you'd like it."  


"You are such a liar." Rose kissed his cheek and wandered over to sit down on one of the hard plastic chairs.  


A man emerged from the back hallway with Noemi in tow. He wore a tailored suit and a smile. "I'll see you first, Mr. Smith."  


Rose immediately didn't like him. His smile was fake, she had experience in fake smiles, and his was an excellent example of one. Shouldn't a principal's eyes be friendly?  


The Doctor glanced back at Rose and followed Principal Novak back into the hall, grinning like always.  


The principal opened a heavy-looking door and held it open for the Doctor. The Time Lord wandered in, shoulders squared, and Zachariah followed him inside.  


"Please, have a seat." Zachariah gestured to an armchair pleasantly, and sat behind his desk.  


The Doctor didn't trust him. Nine hundred years in time and space, and the Doctor had become an excellent judge of character. This Principal Novak fellow was not the amazingly friendly person he said he was.  


However, the Doctor remained polite and settled into the chair. "How're you today?"  


"I'm doing well. Bit of a headache, but you know. Just got my boys settled." The principal smiled again and took a swig of water out of an almost empty bottle on his desk.  


"They go here?" The Doctor kept him talking. He wasn't especially good at job interviews and wanted a chance to stall, plus he was friendly and disliked awkward silences.  


"My oldest, Michael, is a gym teacher here, and my two youngest, Gabriel and Castiel, are students." Zachariah picked up a packet, which the Doctor recognised as his and Rose's resumes.  


The Time Lord stalled more. "You have all boys?"  


"I have...three boys and a girl." The principal kept smiling his snakelike smile, though there was something different about it now and the Doctor sensed there was something he was hiding. "Anna's married and has no interest in working here. And you're from the UK?"  


The Doctor took a moment to recover from the abrupt conversation change, but remembered just in time that Time Lords from Gallifrey weren't exactly a regular thing. "I'm from around there, yeah."  


"What brought you and your wife over here?--She is your wife, correct?" Zachariah looked through the packet, while maintaining the impression of being interested.  


A bit lost, the Doctor accidentally said yes, then conspicuously hid his left hand--he had no wedding ring. He didn't think of how Rose would react to suddenly being a married couple for the moment. "Just needed a scenery change, I suppose."  


Zachariah smiled his phony smile, which the Doctor returned. Then the principal became businesslike.  


"What made you consider this job? How will you contribute to this school?" Dozens of questions similar to those followed, and when the interview was finally over, the Doctor let out a sigh of relief that he remembered to hide just in time.  


Zachariah stood up, and the slightly exhausted Time Lord followed suit. They shook hands, and both smiled fake smiles. "We'll be happy to have you, John."  


"Thank you, Mr. Novak." The Doctor proceeded to get out of the office as fast as was polite.  


Next, it was Rose's turn. She stood as the Doctor came out of the office. He walked straight up to her and mumbled into her ear quickly, "We're married, apparently."  


Rose stared at him for a moment, but then laughed, squeezing his hand. "Congratulations."  


"Thank you." The Doctor grinned and patted her back, sitting down in the chair she'd vacated. "Good luck, sweetheart."  


"Thanks, love." Rose turned and walked into the office confidently.  


She was the Doctor's wife now.  


The confidence was short-lived. "Rose, hello," Zachariah greeted, and Rose had to stop herself from turning around and walking straight back out.  


"Hi." She smiled and sat down in the chair that was indicated. "How are you?"  


"Pretty well." Zachariah looked through her resume, which was a bit less impressive than the Doctor's. "And you?"  


"I'm...fantastic." Rose's heart twinged a little using the word so flippantly, but she shook herself a little and moved on. It was just a word.  


"What made you interested in this job originally?"  


Rose didn't have to make anything up. She'd always thought she would be a good counsellor. Better helping people than dishing out cafeteria slop. "I love helping kids, and they're close enough to my own age that I can relate and give good advice, sort of like a friend and not an old lady giving orders." She realised she was rambling and shut her mouth.  


However, Zachariah looked pleased, and only asked a few more questions before standing and offering a hand. Rose shook it firmly, incredibly proud of herself as he announced she'd gotten the job.  


When she returned to the main office area, the Doctor looked up expectantly. Rose gave a thumbs-up and grinned. No way was she leaving this job unless she had to.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  


"Ameeeeel-ya!"  


Amy Pond sighed and slowed to wait for her best friend. "Mels, I swear if you don't hurry up, I'll just leave you here."  


"You wouldn't do that, darling." Melody hefted her suitcase and darted forward to join Amy. "Where's Rory, the Man of Your Dreams?"  


Amy punched Melody in the arm and stalked ahead again, down the cracked sidewalk. Melody hurried to catch up. "Don't deny it!"  


"His mum is driving him." Amy coolly ignored any further questions regarding her boyfriend.  


"What, she can't drive us too?"  


"No, we're riding with a friend of mine," Amy repeated for what felt like the millionth time.  


"Is he cute?"  


"Debatable."  


Melody wiggled her eyebrows and looked freshly enthused. "Allllllright then."  


"Mels, don't flirt, he gets confused."  


"He sounds precious."  


Amy rolled her eyes and moved ahead again.  


"Stop running away from me!" Melody struggled to catch up, dragging her suitcase behind her. "What's this friend's name?"  


Amy hesitated. What was the name he went by in public? "Matt Smith."  


"Matt Smith." Melody repeated the name several times in varying accents and pitches until Amy told her to shut her mouth and walk faster.  


They reached a respectably-sized house, and Amy marched up with a spring in her step and pounded on the door.  


Melody stood right next to her, waiting and resting her suitcase against her leg.  


"A moment!" A boy's voice yelled from inside. There was some thudding of footsteps.  


"Oooh, British," Melody said approvingly. Amy elbowed her in the ribs.  


The door flung open and a boy of about eighteen stood on the step. He hugged Amy with an exclaimed greeting, then stood back and smiled at Mels.  


"This is Melody," Amy introduced, and watched Melody to make sure she didn't do anything too inappropriate.  


"Hello, Melody, I'm Matt," he waved and picked up his bag and car keys.  


"You never told me he was hot," Melody remarked appreciatively, and Matt's face flushed red.  


Amy kicked Melody somewhat subtly as Matt hurried out to his bright blue truck, tossing his bag in the flatbed. He turned back and held out his hand for the girls' bags. Amy handed her duffel bag to him and slipped the keys out of his pocket, rounding the truck to the driver's seat and unlocking the door. Matt lifted Melody's suitcase into the flatbed and avoided her flirtations blushingly, climbing in next to Amy in the front seat. Melody gladly climbed in next to him, sandwiching Matt in the middle.  


They chatted most of the drive to their school. Amy tried to get Melody to quit flirting, Matt blushed almost the entire drive down, and Melody almost got a kiss from him when they stopped for gas, but Amy returned in time to save Matt.  


The trio unloaded from the truck two hours later, rounding to the back to get their bags. Amy dragged her duffel bag towards the office, running almost directly into her boyfriend Rory.  


"Fancy meeting you here." Amy grinned and gave him a quick kiss.  


Rory smiled and held up his schedule. "Did you print yours out at home?"  


"No, I thought I'd go without." Amy waved Matt and Melody over, then crouched and unzipped the top zipper of her bag open, pulling out a crumpled paper. "You could've texted it to me. On my phone?"  


Rory looked a bit sheepish. "Left it at home. Mum's sending it over in the mail."  


"You're an idiot."  


"Love you too."  


Matt finally reached them. "Hey, Rory!"  


Rory smiled and held up a hand. "Hi...Matt. And Melody," he added as the darker-skinned girl caught up to them.  


"Hiya, Rory." Melody winked and checked her schedule, which she'd dug out of her back pocket. "Apparently I'm in building D. Anyone else?"  


Everyone else shook their head. Melody sighed good-naturedly and shrugged. "Later, darlings."  


Melody practically sashayed away, her suitcase flying behind her. Amy and Rory both rolled their eyes.  


As soon as Melody was out of sight, the couple pulled Matt over, onto a bench next to the office. "Any luck, Doctor?" Rory muttered, sitting down next to him.  


"On what?" Matt looked a bit dazed. Melody seemed to have that effect on people.  


Amy snapped her fingers in front of his face, plopping onto the bench on Matt's other side. "On the anti-aging thing!"  


"Oh, that." Matt shook his head. Amy and Rory both sighed. "Sorry," he apologised. "But there's a really good library here!"  


"I nominate Rory," Amy said immediately.  


Rory smiled and raised an eyebrow. "What about study sessions?"  


"Works for me." Amy winked at him.  


Oblivious to the flirting, Matt pulled out his schedule. "What buildings are your rooms in?"  


"B." Amy looked at the two boys. "Please say you have the same building as me?"  


They both shook their heads; they were in building C.  


"Don't tell me you're sharing a room," Amy complained.  


Matt looked at his schedule, then at Rory's. "We aren't."  


"Good." Amy stood and lifted her bag with more force than was necessary. "I'll see you at dinner!"  


"Don't get lost," Matt said helpfully.  


Rory stood and gave his girlfriend a kiss before she strolled away. "You'll figure out the cure soon, right?"  


"Oh, of course." Matt picked up his bag. "What d'you say we follow Amy?"  


Amy was roommate to another enthusiastic redhead such as herself, a girl named Charlie Bradbury. They were both very excited and chatted too loud for Rory to even think, so he took Matt's elbow and steered him away. "Wow," was all he could say.  


"One Amy was enough," Matt agreed, pointing out their building ahead.  


"Fingers crossed." Rory swung open the door and headed down the hall. Matt saluted mockingly and went to the elevator.  


Rory knocked on his door hesitantly, then pushed it open. On one bed sat a strong-looking boy, listening to music and throwing darts at the opposite wall. When he saw Rory, the boy pulled off his headphones and grinned. "I'm Greg! You're Rory, I presume?"  


Rory nodded and smiled, throwing his bag onto the unoccupied bed. "Can I play?"  


Rory crushed him at darts, and Greg declared rematch after rematch until it was clear he couldn't ever win. Rory apologised, but Greg said they'd have all year for him to lose so it was acceptable. 

Matt checked each door for his name, finally stopping at the one on the end. "Matt Smith," he said to himself, content, and pushed the door open.  


A boy was sprawled on one of the beds, his curly black hair a mess, and his violin lay forgotten on the floor.  


"Hello," Matt tried, settling on the bed opposite.  


The boy turned his head and looked at Matt disinterestedly, then blinked lazily and sat up, swaying a little.  


"Are you high?" Matt asked before he could think.  


The boy laughed slowly and crossed his legs. "Are you ever going to find the solution to your friends' problem?"  


Matt froze. "How did you know that?"  


"Sherlock Holmes, and you're Matt. Yes, I know." The boy yawned. "Why would you think I'm high?"  


"You're very vague, and slowed down, and relaxed." Matt crossed his arms. "And it smells in here."  


"Very nice." Sherlock pointed out the dresser. "Top drawer if you want some."  


Matt furrowed his eyebrows, got up, opened the top drawer, and was greeted by neat packages of opium. "Sherlock Holmes!" He shouted.  


Sherlock jumped a little. "What?" he asked irritably when he'd recovered.  


Matt picked up the packages gingerly, crossed to the window, and tossed them out, a perfect shot into the dumpster. "How dare you!"  


"Helps me to think." Sherlock closed his eyes.  


"Well, not anymore!" Matt picked up the violin and shoved it into Sherlock's hands. "You want to think, compose music or something. No addicting substances cross that threshold, you hear?"  


Sherlock sulkily agreed. "Rude," he muttered.  


"No, just smart," Matt snapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drugs are bad and that is the extent of my knowledge of them


	3. Chapter 3: Sherlock

Sherlock sat upside-down on the couch, staring straight at the underside of the coffee table, stroking his dog's ears, and not listening a bit as his brother Mycroft lectured him. He'd gotten kicked out of his previous school for breaking into the principal's office, and the rest of the family was determined not to let it happen again.  


Sherlock was contemplating if he would get expelled for possession of drugs when he realised Mycroft was snapping his fingers in front of Sherlock's face.  


Sherlock looked up lazily. "Don't worry about me, Mike."  


"Mycroft," the older boy corrected with one of his signature sneers. "We're leaving now. Get up."  


Sherlock grinned up at his brother, running a hand through his curly hair. His dog, Redbeard, whined when he stopped scratching his head. Sherlock obliged. "Whatever for?"  
"We're going to school."  


The younger Holmes sighed theatrically and rolled off the couch onto the floor with a dull thud. "I don't need to."  


Mycroft nudged his brother with one hard-toed shoe. "Perhaps not, but it's illegal to keep you home, and Mummy says you need to."  


"Oh, Mummy says so, obviously it's a marvellous idea," Sherlock muttered into the carpet, smiling when Redbeard snuffled into his ear. School had always been boring for Sherlock, though he'd never been in the same one for more than a year. He had problems with illegal drug possession and publicly humiliating teachers that bothered him.  


Mycroft sniffed in the pompous way that made Sherlock want to punch him in the face. "William Sherlock Scott Holmes, get in the car."  


Sherlock smiled into the beige shag carpet before lazily getting to his feet and straightening his jacket. "Of course, brother dear." He stroked his dog's back one last time.  


Stalking to the car in the driveway, Sherlock left Mycroft to carry his bags out. If his family was forcing him into some American boarding school, he wasn't going to let them enjoy a moment of it.  


The atmosphere inside the car shifted periodically, from icy silences to clipped, barely polite discussions on neutral topics to heated arguments (which Sherlock started and Mycroft ended).  


Sherlock became increasingly bored until he finally suggested, "Let's play deductions."  


"That's not fair, I'm driving."  


"And I'm experiencing withdrawal symptoms, brother mine." Sherlock pointed out a Honda Pilot to their left. "Five children, absent mother."  


"I thought you said you don't experience withdrawal." Mycroft slowed to a stop a light. "Abusive father, teaches at a private school."  


"Well, I lied," Sherlock snapped. "And he doesn't teach, he's a principal and his alcoholism wastes the increased salary."  


"How on earth did you get that?" Mycroft glanced sideways at the Honda, then looked away when the man in the passenger seat made eye contact with him.  


"He's the principal at the ridiculous school called St. Bartholomew's, where I am currently being dragged against my own will. The alcoholism was an educated guess."  


"Cheater," Mycroft muttered.  


“So you’ll admit that I won that round?”  


Mycroft did not, so the brothers lapsed into silence again.  


Sherlock becoming increasingly more agitated.  


"Can I get my bag out of the boot?" he finally asked, his voice a touch whiny.  


"It's actually a trunk; this is an American car." Mycroft kept driving, showing no sign of interest.  


"Idiot."  


"I'm not going to pull over so you can get high."  


"I don't see why not,” Sherlock sighed heavily and pointed out his window to a bright blue pickup truck. “Next one.”  


Mycroft leaned forward in his seat to see. “Boy in the middle has very overprotective parents.”  


“No, he doesn’t have parents,” Sherlock shook his head, but immediately stopped when it made his head pound. “Too much freedom. The truck belongs to him.”  


“They’re students at the same school as you,” Mycroft commented sarcastically. “Maybe you can make friends.”  


“I don’t have friends,” Sherlock muttered darkly, surreptitiously wiping his forehead as his hands began to shake.

The Holmes brothers reached the school about half an hour later. Sherlock got out and slammed the door, practically running to the back of the car and lifting the lid of the trunk.  


Mycroft got out in a much calmer manner, looking around to make sure no one was watching his brother give in to his pathetic opium addiction.  


Eventually, the older Holmes brother dragged Sherlock, his violin, and his bag through the campus to his room, where Sherlock sprawled onto a bed and proceeded to ignore Mycroft, who deposited his bag and violin at the end of the bed. The violin tumbled out of its scratched-up case, but neither brother moved to pick it up.  


"See you at holiday, Sherlock." Mycroft waved and left. That was it.  


Good riddance, thought Sherlock, and closed his eyes, retreating into his mind palace.  


He was rudely interrupted when his roommate arrived. His name was Matt--it had been on the door and written on Matt's bag--and he apparently did nothing but make noise. First, he said hello. Sherlock had no response worth his time. Next, Matt asked if Sherlock was high. Sherlock thought the answer to that spoke for itself, and he sat up, looking the boy over. He was hardly relaxed, though Sherlock decided part of the stress came from him realising he was sharing a room with a junkie. Something else was on his mind. Friendly kid probably doing a favour for his friends. Sherlock told Matt so.  


Though he was pretty surprised, Matt did not try to beat Sherlock up, so the latter decided that introducing himself would be worth his time at this point.  


Later, the only other thing Sherlock remembered was Matt throwing his entire stash of opium out the window. Maybe this year wasn't going to be as easy as he thought.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"Socks?"  


"You've already asked me twice, Harry. I have many, many pairs of--" John was cut off as his older sister threw him more socks anyway.  


"You never know when you'll need socks, Johnny Boy."  


John sighed and zipped his bag shut. "I have everything I need, okay?"  


"You're sure?" Harry smirked and flopped onto John's bed.  


John looked at her suspiciously, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Yes."  


"Then where's your phooone?" Harry asked innocently, kicking her feet lazily.  


John felt his pockets and pulled it out. "Nice try, Harry."  


"Worth a shot." The Watson siblings heard a car honk outside. Harry sat up and tilted her head.  


John froze, then made eye contact with Harry. At the same time, they bolted for the front door, John dragging his bag behind him.  


Harry reached the door first, but John threw his bag out to block her path and squeezed through the doorway, past his swearing sister. "Dad!" he yelled loudly.  


Harry skidded to a stop next to John as their father got out of his car and grinned, walking over to meet them.  


"Hey, Dad!" Harry grinned and waved, giving her father a hug. "Mom's in the kitchen, having a hangover, which is the only reason I don't have one myself."  


"I believe it." John's dad laughed and ruffled John's hair. "You ready to go?"  


"I have enough socks, that's for sure." John threw his bag into the backseat of his dad's Jeep.  


"Very important. Socks are very useful," Mr. Watson managed to say it with a straight face. He lowered his voice and spoke to John. "Harry?"  


John nodded with a grin.  


His father rolled his eyes and raised his voice to normal volume again. "You going to be okay, Harry?"  


John's older sister nodded enthusiastically. "Clara's coming over soon, we're going to a movie." Clara was Harry's girlfriend, but to John's mother, she was still just Harry's best friend. Harry apparently didn't have the guts to tell her. Once, John had asked what Harry would do when Clara proposed, because even Mr. Watson knew Clara was going to propose, but Harry had had no good plan for that, yet.  


Once Harry had disappeared back into the house, John and his dad climbed into the Jeep. "You have the directions?" Mr. Watson asked.  


"Yeah." John pulled them out of his back pocket and unfolded the crinkled paper before buckling his seatbelt.  


The two rode in companionable silence until John's dad pulled into a Burger King drive-thru. "Chocolate?" he asked, already knowing the answer.  


"As long as you don't tell Harry." John smiled and leaned back in his seat. He and his dad had been going for milkshakes on the first day of school every time his dad had been home for them. Mr. Watson served in the army, so about half the time he wasn't home, but chocolate milkshakes were still their special thing. Sometimes Harry tagged along, but usually she decided she was too cool to hang out with her dad and kid brother.  


John slurped his milkshake as they pulled into the main road again. "Thanks."  


"Your mom'd flay me alive." Mr. Watson laughed and stopped at a light, and they fell back into silence. John's mother, Mr. Watson's ex-wife, was obsessed with the fact that John was never lean enough. He'd tried to keep up with whatever crazy diet or pill that she proposed, but Harry had bought him hamburgers in secret to counter whatever effect the diet would have had on him. Eventually, his mother had given up with a dramatic sigh of resignation that John was not skinny, and never would be.  


"Mom needs to take a chill pill," John responded thoughtfully, stealing a sip of his father's strawberry milkshake.  


"Yep." Mr. Watson turned down the radio a little and looked over at his son. "How are you?"  


"Me?" John looked a little uncomfortable with the sudden direct attention. "I'm actually okay."  


He wasn't sugarcoating anything. He was drinking a chocolate milkshake and talking to his dad. Couldn't get any better.  


Then he remembered where he was going and shrugged. "Just a little not excited for school."  


His dad smiled sympathetically and turned his gaze back to the road. His father had been in the military as well. "I get you."  


It was quiet again for a while. John finished his milkshake.  


As they neared the school, Mr. Watson turned into the parking lot and stopped the car. He put a hand on John's arm as his son started to get out, and John hesitated. "What is it, Dad?"  
"I know it's hard to keep friends because of how we move around, but can you just try this year? Sign up for lacrosse or something?"  


John sighed melodramatically, but smiled. "Yeah, whatever."  


"Thanks." John's dad grinned the same grin John had inherited, and leaned forward to kiss John's forehead. "You want me to walk you in?"  


"I already have my schedule. I'll be fine." John shook his head and hoisted his bag out of the backseat. "See you at Thanksgiving."  


"Love you." Mr. Watson restarted the car as soon as John was a safe distance away.  


"You too." John smiled and waved until his dad was too far away to see. He had a certain uneasy feeling, but couldn't quite put his finger on it.  


He dragged his suitcase throughout campus, finally locating building C and riding the elevator up to the second floor, along with a boy with a sort of pinched, pompous face.  


"I'm John," John attempted when he found the silence too tense.  


"I am not a student here," the boy replied in a way that indicated John should've figured it out himself. "But I'm Mycroft. You're sharing a building with my brother, I see. He left his cell phone in the car and I have to take it to him," Mycroft announced with a tremendous sigh, as if it were the worst thing to happen to him in his entire life.  


John wondered if Mycroft's brother was anywhere near as irritating as Mycroft.  


"Sherlock Holmes. But you aren't roommates with him, don't worry." The elevator stopped and Mycroft stepped out primly. "Good day."  


"Yeah, bye." John raised his eyebrows and checked each door for his name as he walked down the hallway. He found it and pushed the door open to an empty room.  


Soon after he had gotten settled, two boys--brothers, probably--appeared in the doorway. John looked up at them and stood, setting his laptop aside.  


"Which one of you is my roommate?" he asked, unsure.  


The taller one had blonde hair, a leather jacket, and a cocky smile. "Both," he responded flatly with a wink.  


"Me," the younger one answered in a friendly manner. He was skinny and had slightly shaggy hair. "I'm Sam Winchester."  


"John Watson, hi." John shook Sam's hand, gesturing over his shoulder apologetically. "Hope you don't mind I took this bed, it had an outlet..."  


"Oh, that's not a problem." Sam answered sincerely.  


Sam's older brother, Dean, stepped forward and held out his hand to shake as well. "I'm Dean, his older brother. I'm a junior?"  


John took this to mean he should state his year as well. "I'm a senior. Good to meet you. I'll take care of Sam, no worries."  


Sam tossed his things onto the unoccupied bed. Dean ruffled his brother's hair, causing it to stick up in places. "Thanks. Anyone bothers you, call me."  


"Love you too." Sam rolled his eyes magnificently.  


John laughed when he knew Dean was out of earshot. "I'm a younger sibling too. Nice to know it isn't just me."  


"Older brother?"  


"Sister," John corrected with a grimace.  


"We should set them up."  


"Harry's gay."  


"So's Dean."  


"Really?"  


Sam nodded and held a finger to his lips. “Well, bi, but close enough.”  


John smirked, then closed his laptop and checked his watch. "Dinner's soon. Want to head over?"  


Sam looked interested. "Sounds good to me."  


John smiled and stood up, crossing to the door.  


There you are, Dad, I'm making friends.


	4. Chapter 4

Cas did not want to go to dinner.  


Dinner was full of loud, foulmouthed kids who always tripped him or stole his things or something of that sort. None of those were enjoyable. Ever.  


In spite of having eaten just before he'd arrived, Dean was starving. However, he was not going to walk into the lunchroom alone. "Come on, Cas, I don't really know that many people," he pleaded. "You don't want me to have to sit with only my brother?"  


"Why is that a bad thing?" Cas muttered into his pillow, on which he was trying to sleep.  


"Do you have a little brother?" Dean sensed that the answer was no.  


"No," Cas confirmed, opened his eyes and looked up at Dean with a sigh. If he'd had a younger brother, things would be a lot different.  


Dean rolled his eyes as an excuse to look away from Cas's piercing blue gaze. "You have older brothers, though."  


"Correct." Cas rolled onto his back and looked pointedly away from Dean.  


Anna had long ago told Cas that he did this thing with his big blue eyes, where he'd stare at you like a lost puppy until you agreed to whatever he wanted. Cas hadn't understood what she'd meant before, but now Dean was trying the same technique. Cas was determined not to let it work on him.  


"Have your brothers ever wanted to just hang out with you?" Dean tried to find a way to prove to Cas that he needed someone to go to lunch with.  


"No, I'm boring," Cas stated.  


Dean sighed and grabbed Cas's arm. What was the deal with this guy, anyway? "My point exactly. Not that you're boring," Dean hurriedly added, because it was true. Cas was interesting. "Come on, man."  


Cas did his best not to wince and pulled his arm out Dean's grip. "I'm not hungry." As if to disprove his point, his stomach grumbled loudly. He remembered that his dad hadn't gotten him lunch, and that he hadn’t eaten breakfast, and let out a breath of defeat.  


Dean was watching with a smirk, though was a tiny bit worried. He'd just grabbed Cas's wrist and it hurt? Maybe they had the same dad situation, but Dean didn’t want to jump to conclusions. "Come on, Cas."  


"No." Cas saw concern in Dean's eyes and didn't want any part of it.  


"Cas, I will drag you all the way to the cafeteria if I have to."  


Cas somehow looked amused without even a hint of a smile. "I'm way too heavy."  


"Don't be ridiculous, I could snap you in half over my knee, so get up and don't tempt me."  


Cas glared at Dean, who only smirked in response and spoke condescendingly. "Come along, Castiel, we're going to get food now."  


Eventually, Cas's stomach got the best of him and he stood up. He was almost the same height as Dean, but Dean knew he was taller and smiled cockily before taking Cas's arm more carefully than before and dragging him to the door. "That took much longer than it should have."  


"Sorry," Cas muttered.  


Dean just shook his head and herded his roommate into the elevator. "Anyone else who sits with you?"  


Cas didn't answer. Dean was cool, and actually talked to him like a normal person. He didn't want to admit that he was an absolute loser with basically no friends.  


Dean nudged him. "You alive?"  


Cas nodded and glanced over at Dean before looking away again. Why did Dean even care?  


Maybe he was smart. It was a good idea to get along with your roommate, regardless of how weird he was.  


"Cas, the elevator's stopped." Dean's voice stopped his thoughts and Cas looked up, walking out onto the base floor of building B.  


"Thank you," Cas said to Dean without looking over, and slipped through the door, outside.  


Dean followed his roommate silently--he seemed to know where to go while Dean himself did not--but finally decided to break the silence. He caught up to Cas, determined to make conversation. "So, you said coming here was a family thing?"  


Cas nodded, coming to the realisation that eventually, Dean would notice that he and the principal were related. "My father is the principal."  


"Oh, that'll do it." Dean noticed Cas tense up and steered clear of the Zachariah Novak conversation. "What are your siblings' names?" Dean shoved his hands into his pockets and fingered his pocketknife absently.  


"Michael's the oldest, then Lucifer and Anna and Gabriel." Castiel said it like he'd said it a million times before.  


Those were very strange names, Dean couldn't help thinking, but Cas gave him a slightly accusatory look and Dean wondered if Cas had read his mind or something. "Your parents are into religion, I'm guessing?"  


"My mother was." Cas shrugged and moved the conversation away from his family. "What about you and your brother?"  


"Sam." As soon as he said it, Dean spotted his younger brother ahead and was able to move the conversation away from himself. "There he is!"  


As Dean ran ahead to catch his brother, Cas fell behind shyly, because didn't really have people skills. He looked around apprehensively. Someone was going to beat him up, he could feel it, it usually happened right when he was content. What could he do to stop it? Being the easiest target in the school by far, not much. He should catch up to Dean and Sam and the boy with them, who was probably Sam's roommate.  


He stumbled and fell, mostly out of surprise, when he received a hard shove from behind.  


"Look who's out of his cave! It's Castiel!" Snickering followed.  


Cas closed his eyes briefly and then pushed himself up onto his knees. "I don't have a cave, Alistair."  


"So clever, as always." The taller boy waited for Cas to get back on his feet--because Cas always got back on his feet--before punching him solidly in the face.  
Cas didn't understand what Alistair had against him, though it probably had something to do with one of his brothers. Had Anna dated him at some point? Cas sincerely hoped she'd broken his heart. Perhaps dumped him the night before Senior Prom.  


He staggered backwards, thinking maybe he should fall down and not get up, just this once, but he was no coward. Castiel compromised by resting on one hand and his knees. His left eye was probably swelling at this point, as his vision was a bit impaired. "Leave me alone." His voice was quieter than he wanted it to be.  


"Adorable." Alistair drew his foot back, and Cas shielded his face for the inevitable kick, having resigned himself to the fact that no one was going to help him.  


Meanwhile, Dean noticed that Cas hadn't caught up with him. Maybe he wanted to walk alone, but too bad. Dean hadn't dragged him out of the room for him to walk alone. He turned just in time to see a much bigger kid slam his fist into Castiel's face. Cas staggered backward, and Dean suddenly felt really angry. Irrationally so, like when someone picked on Sam. Weird, maybe, he had just met the kid, but he wasn't just going to stand by.  


"Hey!" His voice sounded different, and somewhere in Dean’s brain he realised he hadn’t been the only one calling out, and didn't even have time to get a good look as his younger brother flew past him.  
Cas's head slowly turned when he heard the voice, and looked through his good eye as a blur of brown hair and red and white plaid flew past, slamming right into Alistair.  


Alistair was caught off guard and stumbled back. Sam Winchester recovered first and kicked the older boy in the stomach before the latter turned and ran away, spouting curse words. Sam snorted and flicked his bangs out of his eyes, turning to Cas.  


Cas felt his eye, because he could no longer see much out of it. "Thank you."  


"Why didn't you think of calling out for help? Dean or I would've crushed him for ya." Sam offered Cas a hand. "You're his roommate, right? I'm his brother, Sam."  


"I'm Castiel." Cas nodded and took Sam's hand, pulling himself up.  


"Does he do that a lot?"  


Castiel tilted his head, confused.  


"That big ugly kid I just kicked. He beat you up often?"  


Cas wanted to smile at Sam's accurate description, but didn't, of course, shrugging instead. "I guess so."  


"What a jerk." Sam shook his head, clearly disgusted, and gestured over his shoulder. "Dean's watching us with his Obi-Wan face, am I right?"  


"Who's Obi-Wan?" Cas asked, looking past Sam at Dean.  


Sam looked horrified and took Cas's arm, pulling him back over to his brother. Cas clenched his teeth at the sudden extra burst of pain but allowed himself to be dragged along.  


"Sam! What were you thinking!?" Dean snapped. Sam rolled his eyes and crossed his arms defiantly.  


"Look, Dean, you were being really slow and Dad doesn't want you to get in fights, remember?"  


Dean glared, hating that his little brother was right. Maybe he should be a lawyer. "Are you alright, Cas?"  


Cas nodded and poked at the bruising skin his eye, wincing a little.  


"Looked painful," Sam's roommate agreed, stepping forward and turning Cas's face towards him by the chin. "We should probably put some ice on it."  


"Dunno, looks pretty cool." Sam shrugged, then snapped his fingers and pointed to Cas as if he'd just remembered something. "He hasn't seen Star Wars!"  


Cas looked confused. "What's Star Wars?"  


All three of the other boys looked at him like he was insane. "We're watching it tonight," Sam's roommate said decisively. "I have Netflix on my laptop."  


Dean nodded. "You should invite Gabriel, Cas."  


Cas was inwardly thrilled, and Dean could tell when Cas's good eye lit up in a smile that didn't otherwise show. With a smirk, the older Winchester gestured to John. "This is John. He's Sammy's roommate. And now we're going to get dinner, all right?"  


Castiel thought maybe he should apologise for slowing them down, but Sam gave him a look that clearly told him to just agree and follow Dean, so that was what he did.  


The four boys sat at a table in the corner once they had gotten their food, which had included Dean "unintentionally" flirting with at least five girls. John took it upon himself to whack Dean upside the head and steer him away.  


Sam ate quickly, finishing his plate of lasagna before John had even begun.  


"Wow." Dean raised his eyebrows.  


"Growth spurt?" John asked, amused.  


Sam looked hopeful. "Maybe. The food's really good here."  


Cas poked at his lasagna before beginning to eat it himself. "It's just good for the first few meals. To impress parents who stay and make sure school's okay for their kids."  


"Makes sense." Dean nodded and began to eat.  


Sam and John were explaining the basic idea of Star Wars to a confused Cas when a fist knocked on the table to get their attention.  


Dean looked up to find a redheaded girl wearing a Hogwarts t-shirt and a curious smile. "I heard Luke Skywalker?" she prompted.  


Sam gestured to Cas. "We're explaining to him. He's never seen the saga."  


Cas blushed slightly and nodded.  


The girl looked taken aback and gestured to her tray. "Mind if I sit here? Apparently I'm too cool for anyone else."  


"Dunno, you look pretty hot," Dean said innocently.  


The girl looked Dean up and down. "You're not my type."  


Dean raised his eyebrows.  


"As in you're not a girl,” the girl clarified.  


John grinned. "Sit down. What's your name?"  


"Charlie." The girl plopped into a seat.  


"Welcome, Charlie." John pointed around the table in order. "Castiel, Dean, Sam, and I'm John."  


"Nice to meet you. Now. Most important. Castiel hasn't seen Star Wars?"  


Cas shook his head sheepishly.  


Charlie whistled. "Wow. So. When are you being forced to watch the first one?"  


"Tonight," Cas answered quietly.  


"Couldn't hear you," Charlie teased, starting on her food.  


"Tonight," Cas repeated, louder and a bit overwhelmed.  


"Oooh, can I watch too?" Charlie asked through a mouthful of lasagna.  


Sam nodded. "John has Netflix."  


Dean recovered from Charlie's complete rejection and grinned. "Sounds great. Sammy's room is in building C. Want to start after dinner?"  


"Does Cas?" Charlie looked over at the boy, who simply nodded and looked back down at his food. "Come on, give me a smile, Cassie-boy."  


Cas hesitated, but after a moment a corner of his mouth twitched upwards.  


Charlie made a loud noise of disapproval and shook her head. "No, like a real smile."  


Cas tried, but Charlie deemed it an absolute failure. "You need to smile more, Castiel."  


Cas just nodded. Charlie didn't seem like the kind of person to say no to.


End file.
